


*Average, Average, Average*

by AbigailMeghan



Series: Storybook Island [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abby's POV, Amusement Parks, Cousins, Eventual Fanfiction, Family Secrets, Fandom Allusions & Cliches & References, Literary References & Allusions, Magic, Modern Era, POV First Person, Pop Culture, Portals, Storybook Island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26016739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbigailMeghan/pseuds/AbigailMeghan
Summary: Abigail and Meghan live their mundane lives until they find a portal that can transport them into fictional worlds.
Series: Storybook Island [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888324
Kudos: 3





	*Average, Average, Average*

**Author's Note:**

> Abby's POV

I glanced up at my clock, sighed, and laid my head down on the table. Mr. O'Donnell continued to ramble on and on about something, probably nothing important. Hopefully, not something on a test. My eyes threatened to close as my teacher continued his lecture. 

"Miss Pickard? Miss Pickard? ABIGAIL PICKARD!”

My head shot off the desk. "THE DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF CONGO!"

Mr. O'Donnell looked down at me, the light from the ugly fluorescent fixtures glinting off his bald head. "Miss Pickard, this is English. Not geography, but thank you." Angry sarcasm dripped off his words like poison. "Would you mind telling myself and the rest of the class what I just said?"

I swallowed hard and looked around the class. Everyone was staring at me. Thank goodness I caught the eye of Meghan Pickard, my cousin, who scribbled the answer down and held it up on a piece of paper. 

"Why, you just told the class that Shakespeare's King Lear heavily includes examples of authority and chaos fighting one another," I smiled a polished, A+ student smile and hoped he bought it all. 

He raised his eyebrows but turned away. "Very good, Abigail,"

Nicola Green raised her hand like the prissy brat she is. 

"Yes, Nicola?" Mr. O'Donnell asked, eagerly awaiting her answer. He loved her. She was clearly his favorite and everyone knew it. That was utterly absurd, I mean, who would want to be friends with that snitch, but she was always the teacher's pet. 

Nicola perfectly pulled off that A+ smile that I could only attempt, like second nature, and said, "Mr. O'Donnell, I hate to ruin Abigail's moment, but she cheated when answering that question. Meghan held up the answer for her on a piece of paper so that she wouldn't get in trouble,"

Red-faced and raging, Mr. O'Donnell advanced towards my desk like a hungry lion. "Is that true, Pickard?"

"Uh... no? Your hair looks nice today..." It was at the terrifying moment that I realized no one would buy my pathetic compliment. 

He narrowed his eyes as his face went from red to purple. "I... don't... have... hair! PRINCIPAL'S, NOW! BOTH OF YOU!"

I cringed and scooped up my books, hurrying out of room 110. Meghan was not far behind, rushing out of the room and holding her textbooks. 

"Sorry," I apologized, "You wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't helped me. I owe you one."

"Don't sweat it, we're good. At least something interesting happened. I can't recall the last time anything remotely exciting happened around here." She remarked and shifted her books to rest on her other arm, long blond ponytail swishing behind her as she walked. I hurried to keep up with her, nearly tripping over my own feet. 

"I suppose. Hey, are we supposed to go with Uncle Charlie after school?" 

"I hope so. If I have to spend one more day at grandma's, I'll die." Our uncle, Charlie, owned an amusement park on an island in a lake. The amusement park, Storybook Island, was a fairytale-themed park, with an enormous castle, thrilling rides, and fantastic ice cream. I'm not kidding; their cookies and cream is the best. 

We rounded another corner, and I once again had to pick up my pace to keep up with her.

"I'm not doing that again," Meghan switched to a British accent, "we'll get killed. Or worse, expelled!"

"Whatever, Hermione," I laughed. "Isn't it, 'I'm going to bed before either of you come up with another clever idea to get us killed. Or worse, expelled!'"

"Yeah, but my revised version fits the situation better. Way to kill the joke, Abby." 

The hallway continued on until it came to an abrupt stop at a large wooden door. You know how in the movies, they always make the principal's door immense and intimidating? Well, our principal's door was just like that. With a glance at each other and a timid knock, the door swung open to reveal Mr. Scones. 

"What do you need, Mademoiselles?" said Mr. Scones through his thick French accent.

I looked at Meghan. Meghan looked at me. Then, her eyes lit up, as if she had a brilliant idea. "We were sent down here by Mr. O'Donnell. He wanted us to wish you Happy Birthday."

Mr. Scones touched his chest and beckoned us inside. "Sit down, sit down! Macaron?"

"Sure!" we chimed in sync. He offered a plate with multicolored macarons on it, small leaves crafted from sugar on top. Meghan carefully selected a pale green once, and I a pastel purple. Mr. Scones popped a pink in his mouth and sat down at his desk. 

"I am so glad that Mr. O'Donnell remembered!" He said, smiling. "No one ever remembers to wish me Happy Birthday!"

Meghan pointed up at the TV. "Well, they said it on the announcements."

"Oh," Mr. O'Donnell's face fell, and he stuffed in another macaron, blue this time. People joked that Mr. Scones ate his problems away since he was portly, but I didn't see anything wrong with it. I ate my problems away. Like when I didn't get on the volleyball team, I ate a pizza. And when I didn't make the cheerleading squad, I ate a pizza. Then, when I didn't make the advanced jazz band, I cried and ate a pizza. And when I didn't make the spell bowl team, fast math team, art club, school musical, and the pottery group, I ate pizza, which was sad because my aunt runs the pottery group, and the art club was free admission. 

Meghan made an awkward attempt to change the subject from Mr. O'Donnell's tragic birthdays. "So, are you coming to the track meet after school today?"

"Well, I was supposed to go out to my birthday dinner with my wife, but she ended up canceling. She had too much to do at work. So, I guess I'll come." Mr. Scone lamented. His eyes darkened with sorrow as he ate an orange macaron. 

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you normally go for a birthday dinner?" I asked sympathetically.

He shook his head. "No. My wife always has work. I normally just have a slice of cake and sing Happy Birthday to myself all alone."

There was a long pause. 

I said, "The Mars Rover also does that." 

Another long pause before the phone rang. 

"One moment, girls." Mr. Scones picked up the phone. "Hello? Charlotte? Char- Charlotte? Wait, Michael? Charlotte, no! Wait, I-”

He stopped and slowly hung up the phone. 

Slowly, he whispered, “My wife hasn’t been doing work. She’s been doing Michael.”

The silence in the room was deafening. 

“Who’s Michael?” I whispered. 

“Abby!” Meghan cried. She grabbed my arm and yanked me up. “We should get back to class. Goodbye, Mr. Scones!”

He looked up sadly. _“Au revoir,_ girls.” As the door swung shut, we could faintly hear quiet crying and the tune of Happy Birthday coming from his office. 

We went straight to our lockers to grab our things and go. Mr. O’Donnell would be suspicious if we came back. The passing period bell rang as we shoved our way out the door. 

“How are we supposed to get home?” I asked, looking around the school parking lot. 

“Good question. We could walk, perhaps?”

“Walk home?” I winced. “That’s, like, 20 miles from here. You know my cardio is a curse.” 

“What about Storybook Island? It’s only three miles from here.” She suggested. Walking three miles still sucked, but it was better than 20. 

I kicked a pebble and scowled at the seniors that were ditching school and driving off. Stupid seniors with their stupid licenses and stupid cars. Being a sophomore sucked. 

“Well, we should probably get moving.”

Side by side, we set off towards Storybook Island and Uncle Charlie. 

***

The ferry boat used to chaperone guests to the island was big. It was so massive that most people couldn’t help but be shocked when they first saw it. As someone that has ridden it one too many times, it’s not that cool. Really, it’s not. The captain is this old, crusty man that swears like he’s been stabbed. The view from the side will be ruined by the wind in your eyes (and, if you’re lucky, a couple of flies). And the top deck? All the seagull crap makes it disgusting. 

The part that is _actually_ cool is the entrance to Storybook Island, guarded by massive gates painted golden yellow. But before that, there’s this line you have to wait in, and you have to let these guys look in your bags for bombs before you pay your admission, though Meghan and I don't pay it. See, we used to have to pay to get in, then our uncle would pay us back, but after we got sick of that, he designed ‘Princess Passes’ (he named them when we were six) for us that means we get to slip past security, funds, lines at the snack cart, and charges for lunch at the pavilion. We also get to go first on the rides and have access to restricted zones like the management building or his suite. 

Yes, Uncle Charlie has a suite in his amusement park. It’s neatly tucked away in the highest turret of the castle and has three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a kitchenette, a lounge, multiple fireplaces, and a hot tub. Pretty sweet, right? He had decided he needed a room to stay in once the park became popular, and as its popularity grew, he renovated. The whole suite has a medieval castle theme, so it has brick walls and chandeliers as well as an enormous bear rug (fake, of course). The beds are all king-sized four-posters with elaborate gold blankets and the windows are made of stained glass. 

Plus, it has room service.

“Abby, hurry up!” Meghan called as she dragged me through the crowd. She headed for the closest Dippin-Dots stand, showed them her pass, and took a Cookies and Cream bowl. Using my Princess Pass, I got a cookie dough one. We ate happily as we went to find Uncle Charlie. 

“Where do you think Uncle Charlie will be?” I asked through a mouthful of Dippin-Dots. 

She shrugged. “His suite? Let’s try there first.”

“You just want to use the hot tub.”

“So?”

“Alright, come on.” We wound through the masses of sweaty tourists until the castle came into view. In the center of Storybook Island, the castle had been constructed. It rose above the park with its stone walls and iron gargoyles as if it were a titan. Children skipped rocks on the moat and ran through the center, where a cobblestone path led through to the back half of the park. In the tunnel, small gift shops and snack carts lined the way with bright lights and cheerful teenage employees being paid $20.00 an hour. Storybook Island was the best, hands down. 

We approached a thick wooden door with wrought iron hinges. An armed security guard stood outside. He scowled as we approached. “No tourists in here.” 

“We aren’t tourists. We’re Charlie Pickard’s nieces.” Meghan smirked, straightening her back. 

“Uh-huh, and I’m the Queen of England. You’ve gotta provide some proof or you gotta scram.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at us like we were mass murderers, or we stole the last piece of pizza. 

We produced our Princess Passes with an annoyed glare, causing his demeanor to change immediately. 

“Here you go, ladies, right this way!” He got the door for us, smiled, and shut it as we went to the elevator up to the suite. The moment we got it, cheesy elevator music played up until we stepped out. At that point, we turned past Uncle Charlie’s office and knocked on the door to the suite. No answer. Another knock. Silence. Meghan shoved open the doors and ran to her room (Uncle Charlie let us each claim a room and decorate it however we wanted). She riffled through her closet to find her swimsuit and ran to the bathroom. I _knew_ she only wanted to swim in the hot tub. 

As for me, I went to find some chips and salsa from the kitchen and was sorely disappointed to find mild salsa. Everyone knows that medium is the best. 

With a sigh, I collapsed onto the sofa and pulled out my phone and opened Instagram. What appeared were pictures of food, age-appropriate (not) selfies, girls prettier than me, girls _way_ prettier than me, a post by my best friend’s, travel pictures, an app advertisement, what the heck was that, couples, and animals: the usual feed, nothing exciting. 

My phone dropped onto the couch as I tossed it aside with another sigh. Not even the internet was interesting. But what do you expect out of South Dakota? Of all states, South Dakota. Do you want to know what is in South Dakota? Grass. Praire grass, at that, and a whole lot of it. Mount Rushmore is here, too, but once you have seen it 10 billion times, it loses its charm. Turns out, they're just very big rocks stolen from Native Americans with some guys' faces on them. Oh, and there's a lot of cold weather. Horray. 

Our annual average temperature average is 50 degrees, as opposed to Indiana, another midwestern state, whose average was 60 degrees, or Arizona, whose average is in the 80s. Don't even ask how I know, my science class is pointless. The point is, there isn't much to look forward to in South Dakota. It always makes the top ten most boring states in the US lists online. Just look it up if you don't believe me. 

But the monotony of South Dakota is reflected in everything around here. Everything. The only place in South Dakota that wasn’t dull, lifeless, and obnoxious is Storybook Island. That’s why I love coming here. It’s so colorful against the beige state that you can’t help but fall in love. 

Unless you’re one of the colorless people that live here. Those kinds of people loathe Storybook Island. They thought it was a waste of space that the county could have used to build the new school building. I always feel bad for the kids that had such people as their parents. They never found the joy of Storybook Island, and that’s just sad. 

My best childhood memories came from this place. I remember wearing a princess costume here and being treated like royalty. I remember swinging foam swords in Pirate’s Cove alongside swashbuckling buccaneers. I remember gorging myself on the sweets, throwing up on a rollercoaster, and wanting to do it all again. I remember pillow fights with Meghan in the suite when we had sleepovers here. I remember casting spells with magic wands in the Wizard’s Lair under the Wishing Tree. I remember wishing that I would never have to leave at that tree. Storybook Island defines so much of who I am. I'm was so thankful Uncle Charlie dreamed of this and made it a reality. 

The door to the suite swung open, and Uncle Charlie swept in, chuckling at something. He jumped when he saw me but softened his gaze. “Abby! What are you doing here? I don’t pick you up at school for-” he glanced at his watch, “another hour!”

“Meghan and I walked over. She’s in the hot tub.” I answered, hopping up to help him with some bags in his hands. “Are these groceries?”

“Yes, they are. Not that I don't enjoy your company, but why are you here?”

“Meghan and I cheated in class, so Mr. O’Donnell sent us to the Principal's office. We lied to the principal, though, and then his wife confessed to cheating on him on his birthday, but we got macarons. Mr. O’Donnell would have skinned us alive if we came back, so we snuck out and skipped school. We walked here.”

“Oh, okay. Can you unload that bag? It has ice cream; I don’t want it to melt or anything.” 

“Sure,” I grabbed the bag he pointed to and pulled out three containers of ice cream. Delighted, I realized one was Cookie Dough, my favorite. “What’s the ice cream for?”

“Movie night! You don’t mind eating out of the carton, right?” He put some salsa in the cupboard over the counter— medium salsa. Uncle Charlie was the best. 

I rolled my eyes. My aunt always would say, ‘looking for your brain?’ if I rolled my eyes at her. I laughed inwardly at that. “Seriously? Of course I will eat out of the carton. It means the whole thing is mine!”

Uncle Charlie and I high-fived (well, tried to… we missed... ) just as Meghan came in wrapped in a towel and shivering. “Did I hear Uncle Charlie?”

“Right here!” He called as he put the milk in the fridge. “Meghan! Have you been in the hot tub?”

“Yes…”

“You know you’re not allowed to do that… without me! Abby, grab your swimsuit!” He said as he ran off to his room to get his own, completely forgetting about the groceries.  
Meghan grinned and ran back to the hot tub as I went to find my swimsuit.

***

Uncle Charlie, Meghan, and I had just finished our showers before running off to the park for an hour. We rode all our favorite rides and then some before circling back to the castle. When we reached the door, the same guard as before stood there, glaring at all the people walking past. Uncle Charlie grinned at him as he approached, and the guard immediately changed again. He smiled and opened the door for us.

“After you, girls!” Uncle Charlie offered. The two of us went through, sent quick glares at the rude guard. As Uncle Charlie went past, I heard him pat the guard on the shoulder, saying, “How about smiling more, huh Martin?” and leaving without another word. The guard- Martin, seemed flabbergasted but shut the door timidly and with a very fake smile on his face. 

Uncle Charlie led the way upstairs and opened the freezer. “Think fast!” he cried and threw the ice cream to Meghan. She jumped and caught it, laughing. “Your turn, Abby!”

“Wait, you know I can’t catch!” I screeched, too late. The ice cream container hurtled towards me. Despite my desperate attempts, the ice cream flew past me. Luckily, my cousin’s reflexes were stellar. Meghan grabbed it midair and handed it back, flopping down on the couch.

"Who's up for a movie?" Suggested Uncle Charlie. He sat down beside Meghan and opened his ice cream, scooping rocky road into his mouth.

I cheered, "ME!" and grabbed the remote, pulling up Netflix. "What'll we watch?"

"Captain America: Civil War." Meghan pointed to the movie on the screen. "It's so good!"

"No way. National Treasure is the way to go." Uncle Charlie argued. Like me, he loved history, and no one ever watched anything remotely historical with him because all he did was provide fun facts the entire movie.

Meghan shook her head. She knew about the history thing just as well as I did. She made the mistake of watching Empire of the Rising Sun with us once, and we talked a lot about historical dates and WWII every five seconds. "But Civil War has Hawkeye in it."

"How about a compromise? We can watch Indiana Jones." I compromised while holding up the DVD case left on the coffee table.

"Raiders of the Lost Ark?"

"Yep."

"Sounds good to me."

I went over to the DVD players and popped the movie in. Then, I unceremoniously threw myself on the couch as the movie started and ate my ice cream. Meghan had already dropped a scoop of mint chocolate chip on the sofa before they got to the iconic scene when Indy takes the idol. 

I sank into the covers happily. This was living.

When the movie ended, it was long after dark, and the parks were closed, so we went to bed. Before I could fall asleep, however, there was a knock on my door. I turned around with great difficulty and yawned.

"Come in."

The door creaked open as Meghan hurried to my bed and sat down. "l have an idea."

"That can't be good." The last time she had an idea, I had to walk all the way from school to Storybook Island and almost got run over once when I crossed the freeway.

She shoved my arm, a bit too hard for my liking. "Haha. I was thinking, the park's closed, but that doesn't mean we can't go have some fun."

"Please elaborate for the sake of clarification." She wasn't really suggesting what I thought she was suggesting, was she? Of course, I had fantasized about it, but would never actually...

"We could go out in the park." So she _was_ suggesting what I thought she was. Before I could say no, she went on. "We could run around to all the  
rides- "

"That won't work."

"And swipe some snacks-"

"That's theft."

"And just have fun."

"You're crazy. I'm in."

She smirked and grabbed my hand, tiptoeing out of the room. Uncle Charlie was snoring in his room, like thunder. That could _not_ be healthy.

We snuck by his room and to the door, which creaked as we shoved it open.

The two of us froze. Uncle Charlie coughed in his sleep and kept snoring.

Releasing a breath, we tiptoed to the door and swung it open. Meghan turned the handle once we were outside, making sure the door was silent as it shut. Only then did I relax.

"Let's go," I grinned, and dragged my cousin down the steps. We reached the bottom and dodged passed one of the night guards, slipping into the shadows to roam the park. At night, there was nothing to light it up, but we could somewhat see from the full moon.

"Oh my god!" I exclaimed, looking up at one of the rollercoasters, looming high above our heads.

Meghan looked around hurriedly and retreated towards a rollercoaster station.

"What? Is it a guard?"

"No. I had an idea. An unsafe, cool idea."

"l love unsafe, cool ideas."

"Let's climb the roller coaster."

"Let's do it."

We ran to the roller coaster's boarding station, clambering up the steps noisily. I wasn't quite sure what I was doing or if I was going to die, but I hesitantly got on the metal tracks and got in a crawling position. My ascent was an intense one. I had climbed things before: jungle gyms, ropes, poles, but roller coasters? Never.

The rungs of the roller coaster were thick and cold against my sweaty palms. I gripped them so tightly, my knuckles were white, but I kept going. I was glad I had chosen to climb this rollercoaster, called The Wolf. It was centered around Little Red Riding Hood, so the metal was red, and the cars were designed to look like wolves. It had a decent hill  
but no loops or anything, so it was a bit safer to climb than the others.

We were nearing the top, and as I looked down, I thought I might puke. Meghan didn't seem that scared, but the perspiration on her brow showed how nervous she was. The top approached after a million years, and I sat down on the edge where the track was flat to swing my legs over the side and let my feet dangle. Meghan sat next to me, releasing a sigh of relief. We had made it to the top in one piece, and I considered that an accomplishment.

"That was terrifying," I admitted, the tension draining from my body.

Meghan laughed. She looked around, rubbing her hands together. "Yeah. I have to say, that was truly crazy."

I nodded.

Silence fell between us, both of us just surveying the park. The fairy garden in the distance was still lit up by the tiny lights that seemed to dance around it. The castle was behind us, so we couldn't see that, but we could see Dragon's Breath, the most intense ride in the park, off to our left. Rapunzel's tower was on the right, and Jack's beanstalk was ahead. The fake beanstalk shot far into the sky with handles on it for kids to climb, but those didn't go very high to make sure no kids fell to their deaths. Uncle Charlie would probably get sued for that.

The Mother Goose Boat Ride still had water sloshing calmly in its pools for the floating geese boats to sit in. The stand for Goldilocks's Snacks was not very far away, and the bright yellow paint looked dull in the dim light. A tiara, wand, sword, and dress shop was a little past that, with beautiful princess dresses for children hanging in its windows. The park was truly magical.

Then I noticed something else. Something not normal. Around a sword thrust deep into a rock in the King Arthur section was a weird glowing light. It was so dim, one would barely notice, but in the darkness, it stood out just a tiny bit.

"Hey, Meghan, look at that! Do you see that light by the sword?" I asked, nudging her and pointing.

She looked where I was pointing. She squinted for a minute. "No. What light?"

"There's some kind of glow. Come on, let's go look."

"But..." she looked around, " How do we get down?"

I surveyed the area around us. Inwardly, I chuckled. Considering how difficult the climb back down would be, it was probably the last place I'd ever see. Then I stopped laughing, realizing that it wasn't very funny considering the circumstances.

The climb back down was nerve-racking, but when we reached the bottom, I wasted no time in grabbing Meghan's hand and pulling her towards the light I had seen. We raced down the colorful streets, past Hansel and Gretel's Candy Shoppe, through the Gates of Camelot, and finally reached the sword in the stone.

The bluish light was seeping from cracks around where the stone was connected to the ground. It was pretty dim, and I was surprised I had noticed it.

"Well that's kind of pointless," Meghan remarked, poking the edge of the stone with her foot. 

“What?” 

“The light. Uncle Charlie probably had the light set up to make it look cooler, but you can’t see it in the day and at night there’s so much light from the other rides no one would notice. Kind of a waste.” 

I furrowed my brow. This didn’t make sense. As carefree and laidback as Uncle Charlie was, he wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t do it intentionally. “Unless he didn’t set it up.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean? You think the rock glows on its own? Man, I knew you were crazy, but really-” 

“No, I mean what if there’s something under it?” 

"Underground? In Uncle Charlie's park? And he doesn't know? Someone had to have put in the pipes and stuff underground, don't you think they would have stumbled across whatever that thing is?"

"Not necessarily."

"So, they missed it by a stroke of luck?" She crossed her arms skeptically, raising a brow at me. Sure, it seemed impossible, but people get lucky all the time. As unlikely as it seemed, coincidences do happen.

"l guess," I shrugged, walking around the stone, examining the blue light.

Meghan rolled her eyes, plopping down on a bench next to the stone. Lots of parents sat on that bench daily, waiting for their kids to give up trying to loosen the sword. She looked just as unamused as them. 

"Well, why haven't the security guards noticed?" She questioned, kicking her feet up on the armrest of the bench.

"I'm sure they have, but they probably thought it was part of the park like we did."

"Abby, there's nothing underneath. Besides, even if there was, what would it be? Uncle Charlie's super-secret meth lab?" She laughed, shaking her head. "And why is this the first conclusion you draw? Really, I think you've been reading too many fantasy books."

"Well, that's all Uncle Charlie has in his library," I joked. It was true, but I loved reading them anyway. Fantasy was my favorite genre.

I examined the sword again for a moment. Part of the blade and the handle stuck out, golden and elaborate, with engravings all along it. The sword was beautiful. Meghan had helped Uncle Charlie pick out the designs for the welders and engravers to put on it before this section of the park opened. That felt like a long time ago, but it couldn't have been many years before now.

Then I bent down to look at the stone. It was just a regular old rock that the bottom half of the sword had been melted into so that it wouldn't budge. I ran my hand along it, everywhere, circling until I got to the backside of the stone. My hand brushed something weird, something not made of rock. I bent down to look at it, but I could barely see in the darkness. It felt cold and smooth. Metal.

"Meghan, do you have your phone with you? I need the flashlight." I called from my crouching position, keeping my hand on the metal.

"Yeah, but it's almost dead. I'm not wasting battery on this," she answered, getting up from the bench and walking over to crouch beside me. "Why? What did you find?"

"l don't know."

She put her hand beside mine and batted me away to put her hand over the metal. Her fingers rubbed the metal and fiddled with it for a second.

"It's a switch." She flipped it and I heard a click. Nothing happened.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," I muttered sarcastically. 

Meghan stood up, brushing her hands off and nodding in agreement.

I looked the sword over again. That couldn't be all. Fully expecting it not to work, I took hold of the sword and yanked. Like every time anyone tried to pull it out, it didn't budge.

"Seriously?" Meghan smirked, watching me slump defeatedly. "Did you actually just try to pull it out?"

One more idea crossed my mind. An idea that probably wouldn't work. I grabbed the handle of the sword once again, but instead of pulling, I twisted it. There was a metallic click as the sword rotated 180 degrees around.

Stone scraping stone echoed around us as the rock holding the sword started to sink into the ground. It disappeared into the wall of the hole and spiral stairs, metal and rusty, came out to lead to the bottom. The blue light was much brighter, illuminating up the way.

I didn't move for a very long time. Neither did Meghan. We just stared at the entrance to whatever was down there. We might have stood there all night, awestruck, if footsteps hadn't started running in our direction.

The sound of the rock moving must have alerted a nearby guard. I panicked, not knowing where to hide. Then, from the side of the entrance, a hidden door from the ground opened, releasing the stone. It started to slide back towards the lit opening, ready to conceal it once more. It skittered towards us, rubbing against the granite pathways, becoming even louder.

Meghan took my wrist, pulling me into the opening and down the stairs so fast I almost fell. The stone covered the hatch just as the guard's footsteps rounded the corner. We could faintly hear them run past, still searching for the source of the noise.

The bottom of the stone was revealed to us. It seemed completely normal, leaving me to question how it moved across the ground. The slot in the wall that allowed it to move in the pattern to let us in closed up, leaving down to be the only available route.

Meghan and I began walking down the metal steps, both shocked. Finally, she said, "l thought the metal was welded into the stone."

 _"That's_ what you're thinking about?"

"Where are we?" She whispered, hesitantly reaching out to run her hand along the wall as she walked for balance.

"How should I know?" I whined, stumbling but catching myself.

"You were the one that was right about something being beneath here. So I thought you might have a guess."

The two of us neared the bottom steps, far below where we came in.

"Do you think Uncle Charlie knows about this place?" I asked Meghan.

She was in front of me and didn't step onto the regular ground.

"Judging by how much dust is on the floor, no one's been down here in years. So, no. I mean, if I knew there was a cool secret room underneath my park, I would be down there all the time."

That didn't seem like a very reliable answer, but I accepted it and began trudging through the dust, making it billow up. Our sneezes echoed in the metal room. There was a hallway lit by blue orbs that shone from the sides of the wall, which must have been the source of the light from the top. We made our way through the hall, and as we did, I began to hear running water.

The moment we reached the end, I was awestruck when the small hall opened up into a vast stone cavern.

The ceiling rose at least 90 feet, with those blue orbs floating around the top. They hovered mid-air, just lighting it up. Vines and moss cascaded down from the ceiling like ribbons and grew along the walls. Pools, ponds, and streams trickled around the rocks, glowing blue and crystal clear. Flowers and small plants bloomed on ledges and in  
crevices throughout the cave. Blue gems sparkled from random places. A waterfall from high up came down in the back corner, running into a stream that winded and disappeared underneath a ledge. So many different levels and layers stretched across the gray and white stone that I didn't know where to look. 

A single tree grew in the back, centered between the corners. It's trunk curved to the right, and the branches were long, growing up, to the side, bending, dipping down, and touching the base of the trunk. This made a circle in the center, big enough for someone to walk through. A petite wooden bridge crossed the first pond, and stepping stones led the rest of the way across the pools and brooks to reach the tree. The place felt... magical.

I turned to Meghan. Her eyes sparkled as she looked around, awestruck.

"Meghan?"

She jumped, forgetting I was there. "What?"

"Come on, let's go look at that tree."

For once, neither one of us pulled the other where we needed to go. We crossed the bridge, which for some reason wasn't dusty. The stepping stones were perfectly round, and as we hopped across, small blue fish darted through the water.

When we reached the tree, I immediately noticed the trunk. Of course, there was a lot abnormal about it, but what caught my eye was an indention in it that didn't appear to be carved. The tree simply had a hole in it. Inside was faintly blue, and nothing seemed to be within.

"Hey Abby, did you see the words?" Meghan was looking up at the circle, pointing to the top. I followed her gaze to see words carved on the top of the ring into the thickest branch.

_Atramento, chartam, arbor, vita_

She had her phone out but put it back in her pocket. "l tried to use Google Translate, but there's no signal."

"It says ink, paper, tree, life," I informed her, feeling proud of myself.

"How did you know?"

"l took Latin, remember?"

"Right. What do you think that means?"

I shrugged, not answering. Ink, paper, tree, life. Something in me told me to look around some more. I glanced to the side and happened to see a chest. It was old and very middle-ages-looking, so I went over to it. Gold hinges were on it and it was secured with a lock. The lock was elaborate and cast in silver, but I was more concerned about the key.

Meghan called, "What are you looking at?"

"A chest. But it's locked."

Meghan looked back at the branches, and there it was. The key was hung on a twig on the side of the tree circle. She took the silver key, brought it to me, and I unlocked the chest. Inside were beautiful leather-bound books of all different genres from all different time periods. There were even books from recently. In fact, a newly published book that had only been released last week sat in a leather-bound copy on top.

What's in there?" Meghan asked, coming over. She gasped at the books inside and dropped to her knees, carefully removing a book. "Oh, they're so pretty!"

"Meghan, look." I picked up the new book on top.

She squinted at it. "That was only released last week."

"Yeah, and it was never released in a leather-bound copy. How did it get down here, and in this cover? That was the only way in, and you said it yourself, there's no way anyone's been down here in years."

"Maybe it just showed up. Like, magic."

Now it was my turn to be skeptical. "Magic? Really?"

"Abby, we're in a cave with floating balls of blue light, trees that bend to make circles, stones that move without wheels, and flowers that bloom without sunlight. I think books showing up in a chest isn't that far-fetched of an idea."

She was right, and I sighed in defeat. But then it occurred to me. Ink, paper, tree, life...

I grabbed one of the books out of the chest and hopped over a trickle of water to run to the tree. Meghan hurried after me, calling my name, but I ignored her and put the book inside the slot in the tree. It went inside with a woosh and disappeared in a flash of blue light.

The loop the tree made began to shimmer, and blue light began to flicker. It grew and grew until it reached the rims, then it swirled and sparkled, leaving the cave behind it hidden.

"It's a portal," I said, smiling in wonder, "And it has something to do with those books."

Meghan grabbed my arm and pulled me back a bit. "Don't touch it, it could be dangerous."

"No, it's safe. I can sense it."

Not bothering to say anymore, I caught Meghan's wrist in my hand and pulled her into the portal, the two of us being consumed by the blue light and stepping away from the real world and into the one of fiction.


End file.
